


Broken Hearted Enough to Fall in Love

by parka_girl



Category: Skins
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-23
Updated: 2009-12-23
Packaged: 2017-10-05 01:53:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/36499
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parka_girl/pseuds/parka_girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sid comes home from New York City.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Broken Hearted Enough to Fall in Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts).



> Though it's set at Christmas, I don't have a good idea how long Sid's been living in New York. It's probably anywhere from six months to over a year, whatever works for you is fine.

It's Christmas when you finally come home. You left New York covered in snow, Christmas lights sparkling against dark buildings. Central Park, Rockefeller Center, all the tourist places you visited with Cassie. All the places she'd been before, but took you to all the same. You left Christmas Eve, the city whirling with activity. It's already dark, though it's only early evening. You eat at JFK, rushing to catch your flight and you marvel at how easy living in America has become. The plane leaves on time and you stare out the window, watching New York shift from dazzling lights to darkness.

You spent most of the money you earned working at The Strand on your flight. You'd quit the day before, after one too many arguments with Cassie ended with you leaving. You'd stopped being in love with her when you realized maybe you never were. The only thing you think about is saying goodbye to Tony. You sent him a postcard, _wish you were here_ scrawled on the back of the Empire State Building. You never heard anything back. All you know, from phoning your mum, is that he's still at Cardiff, you didn't ask her to find out more and she didn't volunteer.

Your flight, straight through to London, gets in at 6:30 am. You stumble off the plane, half-asleep and clutching your backpack. Everything else you had, save the suitcase you checked, you left in the flat. _You can have it all, everything. I don't want it._ It wasn't a breakup, that had already happened. Or maybe it was, the same way you left Tony at the airport the first time round. Only you'd never thought of it that way until just now. You look around and London's dark, early morning matching late night in New York.

The crush of passengers from your flight flows around you like a river and you're the stone stuck in the middle. You pull out your mobile and stare at the blinking _not in service_ message until you remember this is the phone for New York. You should've left it for Cassie, too. The time difference throws you and you want to crawl into bed and never wake up, but you can't. Instead, you make your way to the luggage claim, grabbing your suitcase and heading for the trains. You know you should have flown straight to Bristol, but there were too many stops and you didn't want to fly from Jersey.

The train isn't packed, but of course why would it be? It's Christmas day. You get a row to yourself, stretching out and pretending to sleep, but you don't. Before the train's even left the station, you're sitting back up again. You spend most of the ride staring out the window and trying not to think. Your iPod, next gen and top of the line, gets stuck on the most depressing playlist you could find. You don't know what's waiting for you when you get home and you're not sure you want to find out.

Almost two hours later and you're there. You stand outside the station, looking for someone to pick you up, but there's no one. And why would there be, no one knows you're coming home, not even your mum. You grab a taxi and rattle your address off, absurdly pleased you haven't forgotten it. The ride is quiet, the driver doesn't seem to mind working on Christmas. He doesn't pester you, just turns the radio to Christmas music, leaving it at a soft hum. You lose track of time and when the taxi stops in front of your house, you suddenly realize you don't know if your mum's even going to be there.

You wait until the driver's gone off and then you walk toward the door. It's opening before you can even knock. Your mum sweeps you into her arms and for the first time in you don't even know how long, you feel like you're wanted. She kisses both your cheeks and hugs you tighter and for the briefest of moments, you wish you'd never left her. She doesn't say anything except to tell you how much she's missed you and that your room's just the way you left it.

Another kiss on the cheek later and you're making your way upstairs. You think your mum lied a bit, your room's a lot cleaner than how you left it, but it doesn't matter. You set your bags on the desk and then flop down on your bed, staring at the ceiling. It's empty, just like your walls. All the old posters and pictures probably clogging up some landfill in a place you've never heard of. You'd stripped them bare just before you left.

You roll over onto your side and suddenly you miss them all. You think about calling Michelle, maybe Jal. You want to call someone, anyone. You want them to remember you because you've never forgotten them. Except you don't want to see any of them, not really. You missed them, sure, but mostly it was Tony. You close your eyes and you remember not looking back. You wanted to, but you couldn't. Because if you had, you'd never have left, and this was something you _had_ to do. Even though it failed.

There's a knock on your door and it's your mum. She walks in and sits on the edge of the bed. You look over at her, but you don't say anything. She brushes your hair away from your face and you're glad you forgot to get it cut before you came home. _Sid_, she says softly, _what happened?_ and you cannot help but tell her the truth. About leaving, about fighting with Cassie, about how beautiful New York was, about coming home. You can tell she wants to know why you didn't tell her you were coming home, but she doesn't ask and you're grateful.

Instead, she asks if you've eaten and promises to make you pancakes or waffles or whatever you want. You ask for a shower first and she disappears down to the kitchen. The shower is hot, hotter than then one in your flat in New York and you stay in, even after your skin's turned all pink and raw. You close your eyes and it's Tony's face you see as you curl your fingers around your cock. When you get out, you know what you have to do.

Breakfast is slow, leisurely and even though you've got a purpose now, you don't mind. You like this, you missed your mum more than you even knew and you can see she's missed you as well. You help with the dishes and she pulls you in another hug when you tell her you've got to be off, got to find Tony. She doesn't tell you not to, doesn't tell you if he's stayed at Cardiff for the holidays. She just kisses your cheek and tells you to be home for dinner, that maybe she'll have some presents for you by then.

You smile, a real smile that reaches your eyes and it makes her smile back. You wrap up, wearing your brand new winter coat, a knockoff from a vendor on Broadway and then you're out the door. It's cold and you pull your hat on, a new one. You got rid of the one Tony hated and you only wear this one when it's cold out. The wind blows, making you shiver and you wish you'd gotten boots, even though there's no snow on the ground. You think about the snow in New York and suddenly, just for a second, you want to be back there, amongst the glittering lights and the crowds of people who don't know you.

Then you're in front of Tony's house and you don't know what you'll do if Tony answers. You walk up to the door, ringing the bell and it's Tony's mum who answers. She stares at you as if she's seen a ghost and you wonder if Tony told her you'd gone to New York. Then you think, why would he? She keeps staring until you realize she's waiting for you to say something.

"Is Tony here?" you finally ask.

She nods, taking a step back. "He's upstairs."

You let out the breath you didn't even know you were holding. You feel her eyes on you as you walk upstairs toward his bedroom. You pass Effy's room and you hear giggling and loud music, but the door's shut tight. You take a breath, then another and you almost turn around, but at the last second, you knock on the door.

There's movement, noise and suddenly the door opens and there's Tony. He looks at you and his eyes widen. He looks like Tony, your Tony, the one you left at the airport. The one you _left_ and you've never stopped thinking of it that way. You watch the emotions crawl across Tony's face and _oh god_ you've missed him so much it hurts. _Now_ it turns out, more than before. More than all those lonely nights when Cassie was out and you stayed in to get up for the early shift at the book store.

Tony looks like he's going to say something, but instead he just grab your wrist and pulls you into the room. You don't protest, you don't fight and when he pushes you against the door and kisses you hard enough that you forget to breathe, you don't complain about that either. He curls his hand in your hair, kissing you harder and you return the kiss forcefully. Your hands on his hips and maybe you forgot to tell your mum the other thing you learned about in New York.

Making out with boys in the back of clubs. Blow jobs from pretty little blonds who loved your accent. Sex with the boy who looked almost like Tony. Secrets you've kept for yourself. The things you did after you realized Cassie wasn't the one, wasn't ever going to be the one. You push your hands under Tony's sweater, curling them against his hips and he kisses you harder. Your head spins and you don't care because this is what you want. What you've wanted. What all the boys in New York taught you to want.

He pulls back first, lips a little swollen and all you want to do is kiss him again. You watch him, waiting for some sarcastic remark, but there's nothing. He looks ... and you don't know how to explain it except to call him vulnerable. Maybe a little shocked, or maybe it's all for show. But then maybe it's not because he's taking your hand and you're sitting on the edge of the bed. You look at the bedspread and the naked couple's gone. You look at the walls and they're as plain as your own.

Somewhere, somehow, you've both changed. Grown up. You want to say something, anything, but you can't figure out what to say. Tony watches you, fiddling with the hem of his shirt and you can't even imagine what's going on in his head. Your brain's overflowing, you can't think about anything except the way Tony's mouth felt on yours and then suddenly the words spill out of you.

"I think I'm in love with you." You flush red, feeling hot and embarrassed but you can't take the words back now. Tony stares and you have to go on talking. "Cassie and I. I found her. We didn't make it longer than two months. It wasn't ... I was always in love with you. I had to come home. I just didn't realize it ..." You stop, trailing off because nothing makes sense.

Tony stares at you, his eyes burning holes in your skin and you want to crawl under the bed. Go back to New York. Pretend none of this ever happened. And then he's kissing you again. Harder than before, pressing you onto your back and you've wanted this so much. You twist your fingers in his hair, it's not long, but longer than when you were in school together. You pull him closer, kissing him harder and you want him so much it hurts.

He pulls back again, rolling onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. You think about all the nights you spent here. All the times you had a secret wank while he was sleeping. You wonder how many times he did the same.

"Tony?" you say, quietly.

He turns his head, looking at you. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming home?"

You don't know how to answer this. It's not that you don't know, but it's hard to explain. You screw your face up, trying to sort out the right way to say it. But there's no right way, not really.

"I hadn't ... I didn't know I was going home until I'd bought the tickets," you finally say.

Tony stares at you, then back up at the ceiling. "Why'd you leave in the first place?"

You sit all the way up, toeing your shoes off and tugging your knees up to your chin, arms wrapped around them. You look at him.

"I had to find her." It's the truth, it's the best reason, the only reason.

He looks at you for a moment and then back up at the ceiling. "I guess it didn't work out."

You want to yell at him. You want him to react to what you said. You want him so bad you think it's killing you. Lying on the bed, he looks just like the old Tony. The person you looked up to and loathed, all at once. The person before the accident, before you grew up. But you know he's not the same and when he looks up, catching your eye, you can tell he knows it too.

He sits up, then crawls toward you and before you know what's happening, he's wrapping his arms around you. His mouth is hot against your face and you think you'll never stop wanting him, not ever.

"I missed you," he whispers, lips moving against your ear as though this is some sort of secret.

You press your face against his chest, unfolding yourself into his arms. He slides back on the bed, taking you with him. You're on top now and you don't stop yourself from kissing him. He arches up under you and it's then that you really notice that he wants you.

His hands along your back, untucking your shirt from your jeans and you cannot help grinding against him. You imagine all the times he's taken girls back to his bedroom, when he fucked Michelle in this very same bed and it's almost more than you can take. You whimper a little, it's a noise you can't stop from making and it makes Tony stop.

You pull back, looking down at him. He meets your gaze, holds it and you feel like your heart is going to burst. You didn't know you could feel this way. You thought Cassie was it. That was she was perfect and the center of your world and now you're looking at Tony and you know you got it all wrong.

"Sid?" He finally says your name and you feel like one giant cliché, but you cannot fucking help it, because you're in love. You don't even understand it and yet you look at him and it's like this crushing feeling you never want to end. And maybe that's what it was, for all those years. You though it was just a best friends thing, but now you know better.

You don't answer, you don't know how to answer and so you just kiss him again. And then again and he kisses you back. Harder, his fingers tangled in your hair again and you wish this could go on forever and never end. You settle on top of him, pressing your hips together. You grind down a little, not hard like before, but you want him to know that you want him. You can feel him smile into the kiss and you think you never want the old Tony back. You want this one because he knows how to love you back and you've been broken hearted enough to know how to love him.

You only stop because someone's pounding on the door. You roll off Tony, curling up on his bed and watching as he answers the door. It's his mum, asking about dinner and he turns to you.

"Stay for dinner?" he asks and you almost say yes, but then you think of your mum and you know exactly what you want.

You sit up and look at him. He holds your gaze and that's when you answer him. "Come home with me." You don't plead and the words hang between you.

The smile that slips across his face is almost too quick and the next thing you know, Tony's telling his mum he's going over to your house because you've just gotten back and he wants to spend time with his best friend. You expect his mum to freak out, but she doesn't, just peers around the door and smiles that weird kind of motherly smile that always made you feel uncomfortably awkward.

She leaves and Tony shuts the door, turning around to face you. You chew on your bottom lip without looking away from him.

"Ready?" he asks and for a moment you don't get it, but then you do. Of course you're ready. You slide off the bed, tugging on your shoes, then your coat and you're on your way downstairs before you notice.

You expect to drive, but there's a taxi waiting and you don't ask. You just get in as Tony gives the driver your address and suddenly you're home again. Your mum smiles when she sees Tony and promises there's more than enough food. _Dinner_, she says, _will be done in an hour, why don't you boys find something to do in the meantime._

This time, you grab Tony's wrist, pulling him up the stairs to your room. Your door's open and you don't complain as Tony shuts it behind him. You turn, look at him and before you realize what you're doing, you press him up against the door. His hands on your hips, on your arms, then your face as you kiss him. As he kisses you back, you whimper into his mouth, making sounds you'd be embarrassed to make if he was anyone else.

Except he's not anyone else. He's Tony. He's your best friend and you're in love with him. It's not a secret anymore and maybe you should be ashamed or whatever, but you're not. He kisses you back, harder and again you never want this to end. You pull him back, toward your bed, walking until your knees hit the edge. You fall back, Tony on top of you, then against you, then everywhere at once.

You push at his shirt, shoving your hands underneath until you can get it off. He tugs at your shirt, you lift your arms up, giving him a cheeky grin and you love the sound he makes when he laughs. You shiver in the cold of your room but then Tony's pressed against you and the chilly air is the last thing on your mind.

He presses against you, half-thrusting and you've had this all before. Not with him, but you want more than this. You want to feel him against you. You want skin against skin and you want to satisfy this need that you ignored for so long. That you pretended didn't even exist. You unfasten Tony's trousers expertly, he gives you a look and you shrug a little, muttering _had lots of practice_. The look on Tony's face is priceless and you're laughing as he blushes, then kisses you quiet.

You push his underwear down next, until the only thing you see is Tony. All smooth skin and you want to touch it. You want to kiss every bit of it. You want to lick and taste and you know you've never wanted anything so badly in your life. But you wait, because you think maybe you'll have the rest of your life for that. Tony fumbles with your jeans, then gets them unfastened, tugging your boxers down with them.

Shifting, he leans in and kisses your stomach, then your chest until you grab a handful of his hair and pull at him. He covers your mouth with his and kisses you. You want to fuck him, or maybe for him to fuck you, but you don't have the time, nor are you prepared, everything you had is back in New York. So you do the only thing you can think of and hook your leg around one of his, pulling him down against you. He kisses you again and you can feel him grinning.

Maybe you didn't know you wanted him until you kissed the first boy. Maybe he didn't know he wanted you until he shoved you up against the door to his room. But none of that matters now. You're hard and you can feel him hard against you and it's so fucking good that you're pretty sure you're going to come too fast and embarrass yourself. But you don't care. Not when he's rocking against you, not when you're arching up and thrusting back.

His mouth on yours and the world spins and spins and when it stops, the only things in it are you and Tony. You kiss him, then again and again and he's kissing you back. He moans, soft sounds in your ear and it's hotter than anything else in the world. You shift, biting his shoulder as he grinds down against you. You feel his cock against yours as you slide your hands down, fingers against his ass. You press your bodies together and you can hear his breath hitch and you know he's close and it's enough to send you over.

You come hard, gasping and whimpering. You bite Tony's shoulder as you come and you feel him tense, close and then he's coming. You're sticky, sweat-slick and shivering now. You wrap your arms around Tony and he breathes hard, mouth against your neck. You cannot think clearly, the only thing you've got is that it was fucking amazing. You don't dare say it. You can't. You're too intense already and you don't want to push him away.

Tony rolls off you, reaching toward the nightstand and grabs a few tissues. You watch as he cleans you off first and then himself. You're overwhelmed with love, with the realization that he's changed as much as you have. He throws the tissues out and then looks at you. You sit up a bit and touch his arm. You don't need to say anything, he just leans in and kisses you.

You have all sorts of things you want to say. _Stay the night_ or maybe _Take me back to Cardiff with you_ or _I love you_ but you don't say anything. You don't have to. He kisses you again and you press your fingers against the back of his neck as you return to the kiss. It's sweeter than before, almost gentle and you could get used to this, to all of it. You pull back, breathing hard still, and grin at Tony. He smiles back, satisfied, pleased with himself, with you. He stretches out next to you, sliding his hand into yours and you lay like that, shivering in the cold, naked, hand in hand in bed.

_Only Tony_, you think. It felt good, other times, with other boys. But never like this, never _right_ like this. You squeeze his hand, glance over at him and he squeezes your hand back. He turns his head and he's grinning, that stupid _I'm in love_ smile and you feel so fucking lucky to see it. To be the reason for it. He shifts again, leaning over and kissing you. He starts to pull back, then stops.

"I always loved you best, Sid," he whispers, kissing you again before you even have time to process it.

The words float through you and you remember the last time he said them. It breaks your heart, a little, because there was Michelle and Cassie and so much goddamn history and now ... You look at Tony and he holds your gaze and you realize he just told you he loved you and the only thing you can do is kiss him, because it's true. It's all true. It's always been true. And when you pull back, you can see it written across Tony's face.

You rest your head on his chest, you don't know for how long, but the next thing you remember is your mum calling upstairs that dinner's ready. You dress and watch as Tony dresses. You reach up, smooth down his hair and he does the same for you and you feel like a 12 year old girl but you don't care, because you're in love. This is love. This is what you've been waiting your whole life for and all it took was a trip across the Atlantic and a broken heart to figure it out.


End file.
